


What Friends Are For

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Spaced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by anonymous</p><p>Tim doesn't know what he wants.  Daisy tries to help.  [Time/Mike]</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DV Skitz

 

 

Daisy has always been a little in love with Tim.

Even when they had just met, when they were just two strangers who happened to start flat hunting together, she liked him. And she still likes him now. The connection she feels with Tim is stronger than any she's ever felt in the past, and nothing in the world could convince her to give that up. She doesn't necessarily want to marry him, or even date him, but she wants to spend the rest of her life with him, she's sure of that.

More than anything, Daisy wants to do everything in her power to make Tim happy.

~ | ~ | ~

Mike has always been completely in love with Tim.

He can't remember a time when he didn't feel it---even as a kid, all he wanted was to talk to him, play with him, be near him. He and Tim have been through a lot, and they've had their disagreements, but Mike is proud of that. It makes their friendship stronger. And the stronger their friendship, Mike rationalizes, the better the chances that their friendship could one day grow into something else.

Mike has a life and hobbies and an agenda of his own, but no matter where he is or what he's doing, Tim is all he thinks about.

~ | ~ | ~

Tim has always been a little in love with Mike.

It isn't something he likes to acknowledge. Still, it's always there, just underneath the surface. It makes his stomach do little flips when Mike touches his hand or sits too close, which is absurd---Mike is his best friend, and Tim shouldn't feel like that. But he still does. And he knows that one day, something will happen, and he'll break. All the sexual feelings he's kept bottled up for years will flood out, and he won't be able to do a thing to stop them.

It looks like today might be that day.

Tim is in a dimly-lit room he doesn't recognize. He's seated in a rickety wooden chair with his arms bound behind him and his feet roped together. Mike is standing over him, dressed in his uniform and lazily twirling a handgun that Tim doesn't remember having seen before. All of a sudden the gun stops twirling, and there's a cold, firm press of metal against his temple.

Oddly enough, he doesn't feel afraid. It's Mike holding the gun, after all, and Mike doesn't look angry. Quite the opposite, in fact; there's nothing but kindness and affection in his expression. Tim stares up at him, dazed. He feels very warm. His head is spinning, and his eyes won't seem to focus quite right. It reminds Tim of the first time he tried pot, except that this feels more like a hostage situation than a high school party.

Mike moves the gun slowly, and Tim can feel the barrel trailing down his cheek, brushing softly over his ear, moving down his neck. He tries suppresses a shudder, and fails. When it stops moving, the muzzle of the gun is pressed softly against his collarbone.

Tim wants to ask Mike if it's loaded, but he can't; his mind's just a bit too fuzzy, and Mike's closeness is starting to get to him.

All of a sudden Mike bends down, bracing his free hand on Tim's thigh, and kisses him. It warm and smooth and lovely, and Tim closes his eyes, drowning in bliss. The sensation of Mike's moustache brushing the tip of his nose is strange, but Tim likes it. Mike opens his mouth, running his tongue carefully along Tim's lower lip, and dammit, how did he get to be so good at this?

The hand on his thigh slowly slides up. Mike starts squeezing and rubbing at the bulge in Tim's trousers, and Tim jerks back from the kiss, moaning, because _ohfuck_ , it's just too much, and---

\---Tim snaps upright in bed, his face flushed and his eyes dilated, and almost can't figure out where he is. The sheet's damp and warm and sticking to his stomach. Apparently Tim missed the bit where he was fucking fifteen again.

He presses his eyes shut. "Oh, bollocks."

There's a knock on the door, and it startles Tim.

"Tim?" It's Daisy's voice. "Tim, are you alright?"

He sighs. "Yeah, Daisy, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daisy I'm _fine_."

She makes a broken-off noise like she plans to say something else, then pads quietly away.

Tim feels a little less irritated after cleaning himself up and pulling on clean clothes, but not by much. Especially not when he exits his room and sees Mike, sitting at the kitchen table and drinking tea with Daisy.

Mike's eyes light up when he sees him. "'Ey, Timmy, want to go to the shooting range?"

Tim feels himself staring at Mike's mouth, and he flushes, turning to gaze at the floor instead. "Not today, Mike."

"Aw, come on. They said I'm allowed back now, long as I promise not to challenge any of the other shooters to a gentleman's duel."

"Mike. I'm busy."

A quick glance upward shows Tim that the smile has fallen from Mike's face. "With what?"

"You know. Work and stuff."

"It's Sunday, you don't work today."

"Well, maybe I have other things to do, alright? I mean, I have things I need to get done, and I can't just run off to the shooting range every time you want me too, can I?"

Mike is quiet for a long moment. "No," he says, sounding somewhere between hurt and perplexed. "No, I guess you can't." Tim watches, helpless, as Mike stands and moves awkwardly towards the door. "I'll, ah... see you, then. Whenever you don't have other things to do. Thanks for the tea, Daisy."

Mike doesn't slam the door by any means, but Tim still flinches when it closes.

"What was that all about?" Daisy sounds just as confused as Mike did, but there's an accusatory edge in her voice that surprises Tim.

"What?"

"That. He sat around for a half hour waiting for you to get your arse out of bed, and you wouldn't even go shooting with him?"

"I'm busy, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," Daisy says, rolling her eyes.

"Daisy, I'm _busy_! I've got stuff to do!"

"Alright," she says again, quietly. "Sorry I asked, then."

She gets up carefully and moves past him to get to her room, and then Tim's alone in the kitchen and feeling like a complete bastard. He tries to shrug it off and goes over to flop down on the couch. Daisy and Mike will forgive him soon enough, and if his own libido stays quiet, things are bound to improve.

~ | ~ | ~

Things do not improve.

The next day, both Tim and Daisy have to work. He comes home and plays video games, and she comes home and reads in her bedroom, and they don't talk much.

The day after that, Daisy goes out clothes shopping, and Tim has the apartment to himself. He thinks of calling Mike, but can't bring himself to do it. Instead, he thinks about Mike's hands, how strong they are and how good they'd feel touching him. Twenty minutes later he's bringing himself off in the shower, clenching his teeth and pretending not to hiss Mike's name.

Mike doesn't call until the day after that, and even then, it's Daisy who answers. Tim listens to her half of the conversation, wondering what Mike is saying during the long pauses.

"... don't think so," Daisy says. "He's still been acting strange. Do you want me to ask him for you?"

Tim waits for Daisy to hand him the phone, but she never does.

"Alright, Mike. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you soon."

He waits for her to put the phone back in the cradle before speaking. "What was that all about?"

"Mike wanted to know if you were interested in going to the cinema."

"I can't, I'm---"

"Busy," she says shortly. "I know. That's what he thought you'd say."

She makes a stiff turn back to her typewriter, and Tim can't think of anything else to do about the matter.

~ | ~ | ~

Two more days pass, and things are starting to get ridiculous.

Tim is gloomy and irritated all the time. Daisy's cross with him, Mike's still avoiding him, and fantasies of his best friend are running wild in Tim's head like they never have before.

He makes a few attempts to smooth things out with Daisy, but they all fall short. Once he calls Mike, but he hangs up after the second ring.

Tim doesn't understand how things got so knotted up. He wishes he could be the one to untangle them, but he just keeps sulking around, useless.

It's a Friday night, and he's sick of being alone. Tim rises from the couch and pulls on his beanie and his jacket. "Daisy, I'm going to the pub."

Daisy's at the kitchen table with the newspaper. "Alright," she says, without looking up.

Tim heads out the door and---literally---bumps into Mike. He's wearing a dark green coat and an army beret, and climbing up the walk has brought color into his cheeks. Tim wants to tell him how striking he looks, but he's having some difficulty trying to breathe.

"Erm... pardon me, Timmy."

"Mike," Tim manages, "what's going on?"

He shrugs. "Daisy wanted to see me."

"Oh. I... alright."

Mike clears his throat awkwardly. "You going out, then?"

"Yeah. Just down to the pub," Tim says.

"Alright."

They both hesitate for a moment, then Mike moves carefully past Tim and steps into the apartment. Tim is left standing alone, dumbfounded, in the hallway.

He can't fathom why Daisy would have invited Mike over just to see her. They had never been that close, unless---well. Unless they _had_ been that close, and Tim had never noticed.

The very thought makes his throat tighten. Christ. It would explain why Daisy has been siding with Mike this whole time. Tim casts a fleeting glance at the closed apartment door, then shakes his head, walking briskly away. He doesn't want to go back in, and he doesn't want to hear anything from inside the apartment. If there's one thing Tim does want, it's a drink.

~ | ~ | ~

Mike stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking nervous. "You said you had something to tell me, Daisy?"

"Hey, Mike," she says, gesturing to the chair across from her. "I... had a thought."

Mike accepts the seat. "Okay..."

She smiles faintly, resting her elbows on the table. "I know you might not believe me, but I think I know what's been making Tim act so strange."

"Oh?"

Daisy nods. "And I think I know how you can fix it."

Mike leans forward, looking hopeful. "Really?"

"Really." Daisy leans forward too, lowering her voice. "Now, then, here's my theory..."

~ | ~ | ~

It's past dark when Tim finally returns home. He doesn't know how longs he was at the pub---several hours, at least. Not long enough to get completely drunk, but long enough (he hopes) for Mike to have gone home. Tim doesn't want to confront him, or Daisy. He just wants to collapse on his bed and be miserable some more.

All the lights are off in the apartment, and Tim has to fumble for the switch. "Daisy?"

There's no answer. He supposes Daisy may have gone to bed, so he doesn't call out again. He stumbles to the doorway of his room, and is about to start groping for the light switch there, too, when he notices that the lamp in the corner is on. And Mike is standing in the middle of the room.

"... Mike?"

Mike steps towards him, but doesn't speak.

"Mike?"

Mike reaches out and touches Tim's cheek hesitantly, then slides a hand around the back of his neck and pulls their mouths together. The kiss catches him completely off guard, and Tim can hear their teeth clink together like ungraceful wineglasses. Still, it's a good kiss, and a thousand times better than the one in Tim's dream because it's _real_.

Tim feels dazed and more than a little giddy when they finally part for air. Mike just looks anxious. "Daisy was right?"

Tim tries to wrap his mind around the words. Their bodies are very close together, and Mike's hand is still resting heavily on the back of his neck in a maddeningly pleasant way. "... Right about what?"

"She said she thought you---" Mike blushes, lowering his head "--- _wanted_ me, and that's why you were pushing me away, and that if I wanted you, too, I should just go for---mmnnfff"

Tim has pulled their mouths together again, and Mike makes noises of approval. This second kiss is a little softer, but more heated and sensual, too. Tim has only half-absorbed the information about Daisy. He makes a mental note to thank her in the morning.

Mike pulls back just enough to murmur quietly, "I take it that was a yes?"

Tim laughs quietly, and they kiss again. He hesitantly sucks Mike's bottom lip into his mouth, and Mike closes his eyes, moaning. The sound send shivers down Tim's spine. (God, he _really_ has to thank Daisy in the morning.) Eventually he and Mike break away to tug each others' shirts off, and then come back together like they're being pulled by magnets.

Mike guides Tim over to the bed and lays him down carefully, then climbs down beside him. The kissing and groping and petting continues, and soon their cocks are grinding together. Mike just keep moaning and moaning, and every time Tim loses himself a little more. Neither of them are particularly young, but their enthusiasm more than makes up for it.

Soon their pants have been torn off and shoved to the side, and their boxers soon follow. They do not "take turns"---they only continue to kiss and rub their cocks together in a senseless, friction-seeking rhythm. Mike and Tim are perfectly in tune with one another, just as they have always been with everything.

Mike comes first, pumping into Tim's fist and breathing, almost inaudibly, _oh, ohfuck, yes, God, Timmy, please..._

Tim follows just after him, coming into Mike's hand and muffling his groans against Mike's shoulder.

There is nothing but their heavy breathing, the prickly electric air, and the dim glow cast by the lamp. Tim feels like it all happened too quickly, but it's alright, because he knows they'll be trying it again in the very near future. Mike wraps his arm around Tim, and Tim presses a kiss to his neck, and it's only a matter of time before sleep has claimed them.

~ | ~ | ~

When Daisy wakes up the following morning, the apartment is quiet. She isn't quite sure what to make of that, so she tiptoes across her room and opens the door.

She soon discovers that the apartment is not completely quiet after all.

Tim's door is open a bit, and through it, she sees two dark figures hidden in the shadows covering Tim's bed. If she listens closely, she can hear two distinctly different types of snoring.

Daisy moves into the kitchen and puts on the water for tea, smiling to herself.

She feels more at peace than she has in quite some time.

 

 

 


End file.
